Fisher
by Dumblissfool
Summary: Okay! It's not short any more! The first chapter a just a small taste of what's to come. Definitely continuing on this. I'm dead serious. Come on, this won't take long...and it certainly won't take even longer for you to review this.
1. Prologue

Hello, long time it's been for me posting stories or fanfiction. Or fics. You get the idea. This is a small, small snippet of my new story, and I hope it entertains you. And hopefully make you wanting for more. Haha.

I don't really get why we need to declare this everytime. This is called **FAN**FICTION, so it's kinda redundant to do all this. But anyways, I don't own Gears of War.

* * *

Sean Fisher was sitting painfully on a small three-legged wooden stool with a rectangular piece of metal in his left hand. In front of him was a slab of grayish rock, resting on yet another stool. Sean had been on that hard, flat stool for hours, trying to fashion the stubborn piece of metal into a keen knife. Sean needed a new blade; the old knife he had originally was starting to succumb to the rust. And the whetstone had nibbled the blade to nearly half it's size. A knife being so ridiculously small and having a great chance to crumble like a cookie just won't do. Still, instead of throwing it away, Sean kept it in a small crate that was missing it's cover. Sean remembered that crate; what luck he had to find it. Most crates anyone could have come across were probably been reduced to useless bits or charred to extreme 'crispiness'. And where did he find it? Yes, it was in some shop, and if he didn't remember it wrongly, it was a candy shop. How he missed candy. The existence of candies was always a sure sign of a great, thriving civilization. The colorful appearance and taste always gives the eater much sensual delight, with a touch of innocence. All of that taken for granted for so many years, until that day; the day that changed the course of mankind. And candy. Sean wondered if he would get to taste candy like he used to.

* * *

So? Did it grab you? Or was there not enough words or description to do so? Angry because it was too short? Yep, you can tell me all about it in **YOUR REVIEW/REVIEWS. **Seriously, each review is like an ice-cream or a treat. I like ice-cream.


	2. Visitor

Hello! Nice to see you reaching this point! Well, this is it, an ACTUAL chapter. Took me quite a long time to finish, and to be quite honest, I felt it wasn't complete. But the general idea is there. Hopefully this would get you guys to review and do lots of nice things for me.

I own my characters in this story. Haha take that! But sadly, I don't own Gears of War.

* * *

Sean dusted his hands, his eyes never leaving the new blade he crafted. He was quite contented with it, and with himself. The blade was almost as long as a carving knife, but it was definitely thicker than one. The blunt part of it was wrapped with linen cloth, secured with a dead knot at the end of the weapon, with two strips of cloth dangling. It certainly looked pretty lethal and intimidating. Once again, he has proven to the world, and to himself, that he has the willpower and brains to survive. Utterly satisfied, Sean rose from the unforgiving stool rather slowly, his left hand repeatedly squeezing the hilt of his new weapon, testing the grip, eyes still admiring his handiwork. Then, like a child, being given a new toy, Sean begun playing with it, slashing and jabbing the blade into the guts of an invisible foe. It was hard, yet lightweight, and it pierced through the hapless air beautifully. Like a salmon weaving effortlessly through turbulent water. This may be the best dagger he had made so far.

Sean looked at his beeping watch. Five-twenty-five. Time to get ready. Sean wiped the sleep off his eyes and fought his rebellious body. Stick was already up, right beside him, waiting ever so patiently for Sean to rise from his makeshift bed. Sean ruffled the dog's head gently, giving him a smile, just like any other day. It always feels great to see a friendly face, first thing in the morning. Stick has always been by his side; if he didn't, Sean reckoned he'll be dead by now. Stick was a magnificent dog; he bore much resemblance to a wolf. He was large, almost as big as a man, and owning the most fabulous fur Sean has ever seen. Stick was a great companion. Other than him, Sean had had almost no interaction with other friendly contact. Fortunately, Stick was a good company. And a good hunter. Like any other day, Sean and Stick would go out to the woods to hunt and scavenge for anything that could help them get through the night. It is when Stick would just let himself go. A war maybe fought, but fortunately nature isn't involved most of the time. Though, it was still a surprise that there were enough game in the forests for them. Heaven for nature, hell for man.

Sean reached for his hefty boots, cautiously checking its' insides for spiders or other crawling damnation. Sean remembered the last time when he got complacent. He slipped it on to only jump out of it with a different foot. Fluid and hair from a rather unfortunate spider that was almost the size of his palm covered his foot that day. And his foot somehow itched and burned like a furnace that night. Though oddly enough he was certain the arachnid did not sink its fangs into him. Call it illusion some might say, but the torment Sean went through that night was unmistakable. Putting on each boot with assurance, Sean exited the dilapidated walls of his stay, with a hammerburst strapped around his body.

The skies were milky blue, and slightly tinted vermillion near the horizon. There wasn't a sound to be heard. Just the occasional howl of a wind playfully disturbing the sleeping silence. The forest looked like it was still in peaceful state of slumber, so incredibly tranquil. But the same cannot be said to the town of Ragwood. The fire-blackened walls of the buildings, the remains of destroyed cars, the broken windows, just screamed terror, suffering and restlessness. It felt like an ever present aura was constantly plaguing the ruins of Ragwood. As chilling it may appear, but it still was better off than a city. Cities _always_ get sunk. Especially large, human infested ones. And the locust never gets tired of that game.

Each step taken now must be extremely cautious and meticulous. The snow on the ground protest indignantly when being trampled on. And when you've gotten a trail, any sound might alert the game. It could be behind the next tree, or within the suspicious bush, or just below the white ground. In short, it can be anywhere, around any corner you least expect. And seeing Stick gradually excited, Sean couldn't afford to mess up. His ears were all perked up, and he was frantically sniffing the ground with immense concentration. Stick's got a scent, but who knows what kind. Usually, it belonged to an unfortunate rabbit or raccoon. Sean hoped it would be a raccoon; rabbits just seem to be too cute to be hunted. Raccoons aren't too bad themselves, but at least they offer more pounds. Then, at the corner of his eye, Sean saw something grayish dashing away from them. Stick saw it too, and began to sprint towards it. Just like that, what started with stealthy steps was quickly replaced by loud footfalls. Out of sight, Sean followed Stick, entrusting him with the chase. Following Stick wasn't easy; once in a while he would make a sharp right turn or a left. And as the chase lengthen in distance and time, their way back to Ragwood will do likewise. Sometimes it may be better to give up the chase; should you continue, you might be lost in the forests, and the ever present possibility of losing the rodent. Then, just as fast as the running started, Stick ground to a halt, barking at a large tree. This is it. Definitely a raccoon. Sean looked up, and immediately it caught his eye; it was a big raccoon, and it continued to climb the evergreen with much determination. They couldn't lose it, after all that intense running. Sean scrambled for his hammerburst, and turned off its safe mode with the flick of his finger. Holding his breath, he waited for the reticule to meet the head, his index finger ready. The moment it met, Sean squeezed the trigger. A loud crack pierced the air, and the raccoon went limp, crashing down on the ice below. Sean let out a sigh, relived it was all over, and immensely satisfied with himself. It was a big one, around twenty-six inches long, weighing roughly around eight kilograms. Stick was still as excited as ever, his tail whipping back and forth, eyes fixed upon the raccoon. The thrill of a kill never gets old.

As they approached the outskirts of the town, Stick started to become excited again. Sean tensed. Could it be? No it mustn't be. The next possible refuge was miles away from Ragwood. If the locust is here, they're as good as dead. Sean still had his things lying in the building. Sean cursed himself for not concealing them. If one of them spots it, it'll be the end. Sean remembered the last time they raided the town. Searching and breaking anything it didn't see fit, they turned each house upside down. It was nerve-wrecking, especially when Sean was in one of those houses they inspected. Even with a gun, they still outnumbered Sean fifty-to-one. And the fact that he was the only one in the town makes it even more terrifying experience. No one could help him. The whole ordeal lasted a good long hour, before they decided to crawl back into the depths. Could they be coming to check again? Or was the COG finally deciding to reclaim the town? But he hadn't had time to contemplate; Stick was already running towards the town. Sean followed, with his hammerburst ready. No, he's not letting those pale-faced bastards take Stick from him.

* * *

This story, has made me research on many things, and some facts just don't go so favourably. And, to be fair, I had never, ever hunted with a dog, or even own a dog. Yep, I had made a rather risky decision writing it. But I like living on the edge. And, try not to be nasty about my limited knowlegde of hunting and dogs. But if you feel so strongly and want to let it out on me, go ahead. For those who wants to have an idea how Stick looks like, check Tamaskan in Wiki. Stick's not Tamaskan though. Unless any dog-enthusiast can identify him as one.


End file.
